


Commitment

by OnlySlightlyObsessed1



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: 1k to 5k, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Star Trek Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/pseuds/OnlySlightlyObsessed1
Summary: "The first time T'Pol refers to him as her partner, Trip's brain shuts down."
Relationships: T'Pol/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132
Collections: Star Trek Secret Santa 2019





	Commitment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenforsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenforsnow/gifts).



> Trip/T'Pol fluff for m-b-w on tumblr, I hope you enjoy it! Happy holidays everyone <3
> 
> Thank you to [CruelisnotMason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason) and [Weresilver-in-space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuhllyMBS) for helping me look it over.

The first time T'Pol refers to him as her partner, Trip's brain shuts down. He's thrilled, so thrilled, but he doesn't know what it means, and to complicate matters further they're still visiting with the alien diplomats and everyone who heard is being extremely obvious about either staring at them or trying not to, whichever. Because everyone knows. They've all known for ages, but also, it's never been talked about. And T'Pol just called him her partner oh god—

"Trip?"

Jon elbows him gently and T’Pol is staring at him.

"Yes?"

"Do you want to join the Ambassador's family for the morning prayer and meal tomorrow?" she asks, very slowly.

"That sounds great," Trip says. T’Pol levels him with an expression that plainly says that she doesn't appreciate his characteristic overreaction, and turns back to the Ambassador.

"We will be at your home at sunrise, thank you for your invitation."

The Bxjdidi think he's an idiot, but Trip can't bring himself to care. Exactly nothing that happens at the prayer breakfast helps to disabuse them of that notion. Trip can't stand on one leg long enough and to make matters worse, he can't get his tongue around the foreign sounds everyone’s chanting. 

Jon does okay, so it really seems like it's just him.

The shuttle is parked safely back on the ship by 1230 hours, but they’ve got the rest of the day off duty. Trip knows if he lets her, T’Pol will spend it doing something unforgivable, like work. So when the shuttle bay re-pressurizes and the door is opened, he taps her on the shoulder and says “Come with me.”

They walk through the corridors and he leads them to the mess. T’Pol gives him one of her looks when they arrive, but then he knows he puzzles her when he doesn’t get a tray or sit down. Instead, he piles enough food for both of them on the single tray she’s holding.

“C’mon, we never get time off, I want to do something special.”

“Very well,” she says, and he knows he looks like a love-struck idiot when he smiles at her, but that’s not really anything new.

“I do not think the analysis display room counts as special,” T’Pol says dryly when they arrive. It’s empty, because everyone is off on lunch, and also because everyone is off duty except for an unlucky few ensigns who are up on the bridge getting some command hours in. The room isn’t really the point, it’s the large display on the wall that Trip’s interested in.

“It’s not.”

Trip signs in to the computer and pulls up the library’s database of images from earth. T’Pol sets the tray down and watches him.

“If you wished to replicate the outdoors, I’m sure Captain Archer would have allowed us to stay on the planet for another hour.”

The picture Trip chooses is a long slow loop of a picturesque creek somewhere, and it has an associated file with the ambient sounds.

“I think we deserve some time alone, don’t you?” he asks her. “It’s like a picnic, like a date.”

“You intend to eat on the floor?” T’Pol asks.

“Yeah, why? You hate that?”

T’Pol picks the tray up and sits down in a smooth motion, beginning to sort out their lunch. “No. I believe it is you who will regret not using chairs and a table. Humans complain about back pain when forced to sit on the ground for long periods of time.”

“I’ll be fine.” He sits next to her, and she hands him a sandwich.

It’s quiet, with the ship saving power in a stable orbit, and the soft sounds coming from the speakers, the rushing of the creek mixed with the occasional bird call or buzzing of an insect, are relaxing. The only thing that would be better is if it were to smell like fresh air too, or if he could manufacture some breeze and sunshine. Trip’s powers are unfortunately limited, although he knows the technology exists. He’s seen it. Maybe someday.

“This is quite pleasant,” T’Pol says, after several minutes of silence. “It seems to have a relaxing effect on you as well.”

“That’s why I suggested it,” Trip replies.

“Have you done this before?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think it would work as well if I were by myself.”

Her hand folds over his, and she seems to consider this for a moment. “I understand.”

She lays down half on top of him that night. Trip puts a hand on her back and marvels again that she's there, with him, and she's willing to say it out loud, to other people.

She kisses him. "How else do you propose we make the day ‘special’?"

He can't help but laugh. "Is that a line?"

"Is it working?"

"Everything you do works for me," he tells her sincerely, and T'Pol looks almost smug as she helps him out of his sweatpants.

Later, when it’s him laying on top of her, with the heat up high way too high and making him sweat—which he thinks is gross and should bother her sensitive nose, but which she apparent deems a price worth the several hours of being warm—he says, “I love you.”

T’Pol doesn’t stop stroking his hair, but she does tense slightly.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says. “I don’t suppose that’s a very Vulcan sentiment.”

“Vulcans are capable of love,” she says.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Trip.” T’Pol has stopped petting him and he reluctantly sits up slightly against the pillows. “I—” she stops herself. “Among Vulcans, there is a differentiation between relationships that exist outside of a person, part of one’s life, and relationships that exist inside of a person, part of oneself.”

“Go on.”

T’Pol is watching him, and he gets the feeling she’s looking for a sign he’s following the deeper meaning of her statement, but he’s not sure where she’s going with this, and he can’t give her something he doesn’t have.

T’Pol continues, “I am a child of my mother and father, my foremothers and forefathers. These relationships exist inside me, do you understand?”

“I think so,” he hedges. Trip understands what she’s saying out loud well enough. But the subtext and implications of it aren’t as clear and he doesn’t want to assume anything. Not when this thing between them still feels very fragile.

She sighs softly. “I consider the Captain to be a very dear friend. However, my relationship with him exists externally. Do you see the distinction?”

“I do. Humans make a similar distinction, you know. Family is kind of another level of knowing someone and caring about them. I get it.”

T’Pol makes eye contact with him. Another time he might get a bit distracted, her eyes are a soft brown and absolutely beautiful, but this is an important conversation. She says, “Our relationship exists inside myself.”

Trip would have thought hearing it would be like fireworks and a choir singing, and he wouldn’t be able to keep from grinning and kissing her, but instead it’s like something very large is expanding in his chest.

He manages, “You mean that?” If she says yes, he thinks he might float away, and if she says no—why would she say no, she said it in the first place—he’s going to be crushed.

“I do, I do not expect you to understand the significance—"

“I think I have some idea,” Trip interrupts her. “T’Pol, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Because when he told her loved her, this is what he meant.

“Do you mean that?” she asks. She’s so close to smiling, he can see and he can feel her special quiet happiness. He wants her to be happy, he wants to make her happy. They deserve that.

“I do.”


End file.
